“Please do come in,” came the rich voice again, sending a shiver up her spine.
Gillian entered cautiously, keeping the male in the periphery of her visual range by turning her head almost imperceptively. She knew absolutely that if he chose to attack her in the enclosed walls of the cabin, there was absolutely nothing she could do against Vampire reflexes, strength and speed to stop him.
Unfortunately she could see no way around letting him be this close. Grin and bear it…just smile, smile, smile. Nerves of steel, that was the ticket. Right.
The room was large and brightly lit but the dark wood paneling and heavy gothic furniture toned it down for a comfortable, homespun feel. A massive fireplace occupied almost the entirety of one wall with an enormous carved mantelpiece and ornate tapestry over it. Her brief glance picked out the silvery furred wolf set prominently in the woven threads. It was depicted lying on an ivy-covered mound watching over a hunting scene and a village far below it.
The furniture was heavy, solid carved oak with both the couch and chairs overstuffed and upholstered with expensive tapestry-like fabric. The scenes on the material were of a countryside, with wolves running through the forest, mirroring the tapestry over the fireplace in theme.
Nice, she thought. Obvious but nice.
“Gillian Key.” She offered her hand to the tall, dark and stunning door-opener. Being polite never hurt, especially to someone who was offering to help.
An elegant ebony brow rose in quizzical amusement. “Dr. Key? I am Count Rachlav. I had thought that we would meet in town, then come back here, but thankfully you are here now.”
The hand that enclosed hers was large, warm and firm. He’d already fed that evening apparently. His eyes held questions, his gaze warm and inviting; his demeanor suggested that she relax and trust him. Not a chance in hell.
Gillian nodded and swallowed, feeling her irritation dissolve under his quiet, nonthreatening perusal. “Then I have inadvertently found you, and please call me Gillian.”
“Aleksei, then, Gillian, if we are dispensing with formality.” His smile was more than friendly as she moved around him into the room. It was suggestive. Oh boy.
She could feel the weight of the Vampire’s presence behind her, but she’d be damned if she’d be intimidated by him. He had already fed; he was about to be her client. There was nothing to be nervous about.
Like hell there isn’t was her unbidden thought before she could squelch it.
Aleksei could feel her too. A Vampire for the last four hundred years, his power growing by the decade, he was sensitive to all life-forms, their needs and feelings. She was an empath he was certain, and he was betting she knew it or was aware of her own sensitivity.
He gently probed her mind and was a bit astonished by the roll of emotions near the surface. He’d never encountered a Human woman with her sensitivity, yet also with a deeply ingrained penchant for real violence. For a Human, she might actually be dangerous, a realization that surprised him and snapped his own predatory instincts to attention automatically.
Walking past him, Gillian felt the unspoken threat. Aleksei had made no move, given no signal, but she felt the shift in him.
Predator! screamed her mind, and she fought her instinct to turn and deck him before he pounced. It wouldn’t do to knock the teeth out of one’s host and client immediately upon arrival.
Instead, she turned slowly, looked directly into those metallic, silvery gray eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m a little jumpy and a little frazzled right now, and it is distracting to have someone directly behind me.”
There, that was honest. A Master Vampire of Count Rachlav’s age would be able to ascertain the truth from a lie in the space of a breath, likely before a thought was even completed.
Realizing that she’d reacted to him, embarrassed that he’d been so obvious, Aleksei moved. “I am sorry, signorina; please come in and relax. Perhaps we can begin right away.”
An elegant hand indicated the pair of overstuffed chairs. “Please sit. Allow me to get you some tea.”
Gillian sank gratefully into the proffered chair, pulling out her pad and pen, preparing to start with whatever Aleksei wanted as her client vanished behind a swinging door on the opposite side of the room.
Waiting for his return, she collected her thoughts. For now, she needed to do her job honestly. As a legitimate PhD, she really was there to help him and the local Ghost with their issues.
Her only instructions from the brief dossier she’d received were to find out if Count Rachlav knew anything about Dracula or any of the Vampire Lord’s plans, and report her findings. Since any Vampire who was either Master-level caliber or a full Lord would be able to ascertain any hidden agenda she might harbor, the less she knew about the entire situation the better it was for her cover and, ultimately, her survival.
There would be no breaking of his personal confidentiality. His sessions with her and what transpired during them would remain private. For the next thirty days, she was his therapist and the nearby Ghost’s counselor. After that, if she found nothing amiss, she would most likely be reassigned. If she found something…well, she’d cross that bridge if and when she came to it.
Aleksei returned with a platter that held a single cup and saucer, sugar, milk, lemon, spoon and the tea, setting it on the low table between them. Elegant, aristocratic hands poured the tea for her and handed her the cup. He consciously avoided brushing her fingers with his own as she took the cup. She was here to help him, not be seduced by him.
As he took the chair angled across from her, he dropped into it with the casual inherent grace all Vampires possessed, watching as she added sugar and lemon to the tea. Long, lean, muscled legs encased in knee-length black suede boots and tight black pants were casually crossed, giving the illusion of ease, though he felt coiled as tightly as a watch spring.
The lace cuff of his ivory lawn shirt softly folded back over his thick wrist as he brought elegant fingertips to his temple, resting a muscled arm on the padded chair. He was completely aware of the effect he had on her. Vampiric senses were registering all of it with alarming alacrity as he studied her reaction to his proximity: heightened pulse, faster and shallower breathing, blood pressure rising, eyes slightly dilated, genitalia becoming turgid and moist—a sensual perfume to his supernaturally heightened senses in the quiet cottage.
Gillian and he regarded each other. With her mouth going dry and other parts of her body below her waist growing damp, she couldn’t help thinking that he looked as if he’d fallen out of a Romanian Studs “R” Us, catalog. Masculine, virile looking, sensually stimulating and stunning as he was, she’d dealt with Vampires before and squelched any attraction she might have had.
Radiating testosterone, sex and sensuality was just an element of what he was. It wasn’t intentional and he couldn’t help it. Vampires just exuded sex. It was part and parcel of the magic that inhabited them, plus it made finding and feeding from their prey easier. Your meal tended to be extremely cooperative if it was experiencing the ecstasy of intense foreplay while you sank your teeth into its neck and the throes of a monumental orgasm while you drank your fill.
It wasn’t that Vampires couldn’t or didn’t have sex; they did. Frequently. Generally though, unless they were emotionally involved with their donor in some manner, having sex together with blood-taking was strictly avoided.
Whether that was a Vampire rule, taboo or just common practice wasn’t quite clear to non-Vampires. Vampires drank blood. They had sex. They just by and large didn’t do both at the same time unless they intended a permanent attachment to the other party. Feeding without sex was efficient, impersonal—at least for the Vampires—and kept the prey happy. It was also less messy, faster and didn’t involve removing anyone’s clothing.
Their ability to bring mind-blowing ecstasy during feeding and sex was one of the reasons that Vampires rarely had any Human posse after them since their recognition as real and sentient beings. Satisfied prey rarely bitched. Presently, any
Vampire alive could make it known they were short on donors and instantly have a full dance card.
There were an alarming number of Humans and other beings who craved the savage bliss they could find only in a Vampire’s heated embrace. Addiction with purpose was what some of them called it.
The small blonde in front of him had Aleksei’s mind in turmoil. She wasn’t particularly young in Human years, about twenty-five, perhaps a bit older, he guessed, but a mere fledgling in Vampire terms. Young, short, but with a presence about her that suggested she was more treacherous than she looked. He shook off the thought immediately.
Dangerous maybe, but not to him. He could break her in half or tear out her throat before she drew a breath or a gun. Something about her was evoking all sorts of interesting instinctual feelings within him, not all of them unpleasant.
He was six feet, seven inches tall, his frame was large, but he was lean and muscular. She was over a foot shorter and her delicate appearance masked a body put together with feminine curves supported by hard muscle. The way she moved suggested a graceful strength and a certain amount of coiled power ready to explode.
Not exactly beautiful, she was extremely pretty, except when she smiled. When she’d smiled at him in the doorway, his heart had slammed in his chest from her sheer loveliness.
Therapy, he’d thought idly, when he’d seen her. She was the spitting image of someone he’d known. Someone who had been dead for over four hundred years.
Plunging right in, Gillian began their session to keep from drooling all over her lap. Aleksei Rachlav was easily the hottest male of any species she had ever seen in her life. Focus. Focus and do the job. Forget how he looks or what he would feel like rolling around in bed. Do the job. Just the job. Clinical. Think clinical.
“The report I got from you said that you were suffering from what we would term fangxiety. That is, you’ve never totally adjusted to your…”—she hesitated over the word—“reborn state.”
“That would be correct.” Aleksei’s voice was one of unparalleled beauty. Gillian thought she could definitely get used to his voice, not to mention the rest of the package.
Shaking off her unprofessional thoughts, she continued. “In what way, specifically, Count…um, sorry…Aleksei, do you feel you have not made the adjustment? You are functioning rather well from what I have observed, and four hundred years is a long time to not be used to your circumstances.”
Vampires who suffered fangxiety tended to be pale, shy, almost shriveled-looking and be far younger than the man seated before her who exuded the strength, health and sexual prowess of an older, powerful Vampire. Aleksei seemed to be more depressed than anxiety-ridden, but appearances could be, and often were, deceiving. She needed more information.
“I have adjusted to the lifestyle, Gillian, but not to the circumstance. I feed because I want to survive. I sleep in the earth or with the earth in my tomb because I want to survive. I am not suicidal by any means, but I am having trouble looking at an endless eternity of being alone.
“The circumstances of my life have been difficult. I lost someone very dear to me over four hundred years ago because I failed to see what was before my eyes. Coupling that with the realization that anyone I do begin to care for will eventually age and die a natural death, you begin to see my dilemma. I am lonely, Gillian. Eternity is very long indeed if there is no one to truly share it with.”
Taking notes and glancing up to study his face and body language, Gillian caught the flicker of pain in his voice. He wasn’t broadcasting emotions, but then he’d had centuries of practice.
“So what you are saying is that you are looking for some deeper meaning in your existence beyond simply being one of the more powerful supernatural beings with eternity to kill.”
Aleksei smiled a wondrous smile and ignored her unintentional pun. “That is as close to the truth as we may get for a while, Doctor.”
Easing him into his own solution was Gillian’s job. Like any good therapist, it wasn’t her place to tell him what she thought, it was to lead him around to what he thought. He’d already made the decision to make the changes in his life; Gillian just had to get him to a mental place where he could make them. Vampires were notoriously stubborn about changing age-old thought patterns and habits. She’d have her work cut out for her.
CHAPTER
2
A FTER some time, Gillian called a halt to the session. Scanning her notes, she felt she had a firmer grasp of Aleksei’s problem. It wasn’t unique by any means; she met conflicted and unwilling Vampires almost weekly. Aleksei was indeed depressed as well.
He’d spent four hundred years harboring guilt over a lost love and mourning his lost Humanity. The love had been lost because he’d refused to make her into what he was. He’d let her die, and still he mourned her loss. Four hundred years was a long time to embrace guilt.
She’d happened upon the very place she was supposed to be by chance. The inn and the village of Sacele, which she was looking for when she turned in here, had been around the next bend. Aleksei’s manor home was indeed the castle she’d seen up the drive in the night’s shadows.
The guesthouse where she currently sat was part of his vast property. After saying goodnight, Aleksei left to do whatever it was Aleksei did—Gill didn’t want to dwell on that thought—so she finished his intake file before going to bed.
Deliberately staying up late since she would be working late afternoon into the late night with these two particular patients, Gillian took a moment to read over her other file. This one was for an Italian Ghost who was haunting a castle near where she was presently located.
She’d brought it along hoping she’d have an opportunity to meet with “him”—it was a male Ghost—while she was working with Aleksei. Staying permanently in Romania wasn’t on her agenda, but she’d be at least a month with Count Rachlav. Depending on the Ghost’s issues and knowledge base, she would be working with him as well.
She slept deeply and peacefully. Aleksei had assured her that the house was well protected and that none would disturb her while she was under his protection. Gillian knew Vampires well. There were good Vampires and bad Vampires. Her natural empathy stood her in good stead with her Paramortal clientele. Instinct and her empathy had kept her from being hurt or killed on more than one occasion—she was generally right in her assessments.
If someone were a decent Human being in life, they became a decent Vampire in their “rebirth.” Vampires definitely didn’t like the term “undead.” That was reserved for Revenants, sort of the mentally challenged of the Vampire world, who were not much more than animated corpses with the intellects of tennis balls.
However, if someone were a murdering psychopath in life and managed to be reborn into a Vampire, you could bet lock, stock and silver bullets that they would maintain their original sadistic personality traits, which would be coupled with an extremely attractive package. Those were the dangerous ones.
Gillian had one or two dealings with a “Dracula,” as they were called. Neither of them pleasant. One had almost gotten her because she’d guessed wrong. Once. Aleksei didn’t seem to be the sort, at least not that she could tell this early in their therapeutic relationship.
Awakening early enough the next afternoon, Gillian made it down to Sacele and sought out the local magistrate. Buying supplies for the cabin and getting directions to the Ghost’s castle took up most of the afternoon. By the time she got back, cooked, ate dinner, cleaned up and got her thoughts organized, it was time to meet with Aleksei.
His insurance had approved her as a provider for daily, intensive therapy for thirty days. Gillian was encouraged when, precisely at eight o’clock, Aleksei knocked on the door.
“Enter and be welcome, Count Rachlav.” Gillian recited the appropriate words for granting a Vampire access. She could revoke her invitation at any time, which lent her a small sense of security. He’d been in the home the night before because it was his cabin, his property. When he turne
d the keys over to Gill, it had become hers and he needed her permission to enter. Of course the rule only applied to a privately owned, personally occupied structure. Buildings, churches, abandoned homes and empty offices did not apply.
“Thank you, Dr. Key.” Aleksei’s black-velvet voice washed over her, tightening her insides, making her blush slightly. Gah! Bad Gillian. Very bad.
Mentally kicking herself as her own personal humidity index tipped into the red zone, she turned away to sit down. She was going to have to watch her responses. Vampires were very sensitive to physical reactions. She was betting Aleksei knew she was attracted to him, though there was no help for it, given what he was. He probably had females of all flavors and persuasions falling down in front of him in precoital…er…prefeeding excitement.
What she wanted him to notice was that she was squashing her reaction with determined effort and remaining as clinical as possible. Even in the unlikely possibility of a mutual interest, their relationship could be nothing but totally professional for at least one year after his discharge from her care. Thinking about him as anything but a client would undermine their relationship. Gillian had no intention of letting that happen.
Aleksei had to admit that he was enjoying being able to speak freely with a trained professional. Gillian listened intently and he had no doubt he had her full attention. He knew she was attracted to him; any Human female would have been affected, he recognized without a trace of egotism. The fact that she censored it in favor of his mental health needs, endeared her to him in a way blatant flirtation or easy conquest never could.
Her comments were insightful, thought-provoking and politely stated. Thinking, truly thinking about how he had felt all those long lifetimes ago in the manner in which she suggested, opened up new realizations to him. Watching her as she listened and took notes, he was struck by the depth of her personality.
Key to Conflict Page 2
